


Fever Dream (Great Tree Moon)

by MxMearcstapa



Series: Lunar Haruspex: A Blue Lions Story [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Adjusting to Sothis, And So is Sothis, Ashen Demon, Byleth chooses a house, Family Bonding, Father-Daughter Relationship, Female My Unit | Byleth, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Game Dialogue, Garreg Mach Monastery (Fire Emblem), Gen, I have a Beta now so Glenn is safe, Missing Scene, My Unit | Byleth Is Awful With Names, My Unit | Byleth Starts to Have Emotions, Nicknames, POV Multiple, Sharing a Body, Slow Burn, active Sothis, gameplay retellings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:47:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24618568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MxMearcstapa/pseuds/MxMearcstapa
Summary: Byleth couldn’t remember the last time she had been asked to choose anything for herself. Recall, yes. Perform, yes. Execute, yes, more times than she could count. But choose? She couldn’t remember the last time she had wanted anything more complicated than a meal. Her father had stopped asking for her opinion long ago, and she had been ambivalent to follow him.Now, she had been asked by strangers the same question twice, and her father could give her no answer. Which do you choose: black, gold, or blue? The Empire, the Alliance, or the Kingdom?In which Byleth chooses to lead the Blue Lions, Dimitri wonders about his new professor, and Byleth worries about her place.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth, Jeralt Reus Eisner & My Unit | Byleth, My Unit | Byleth & Sothis
Series: Lunar Haruspex: A Blue Lions Story [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1584496
Comments: 14
Kudos: 97





	Fever Dream (Great Tree Moon)

**Author's Note:**

> So it's been like 6 months since I posted a fic and I'm sorry. Here's actually the first part of this series! Hope you enjoy!

Their next job was in the Kingdom.

  
And, had they left at sunup, as Jeralt had planned, they might have been there by now. Typically, his daughter was up before he was, but this time, she was still in bed when he knocked at her door. A panic had seized Jeralt as he pushed open the door. But his daughter was fine.

  
Merely, oddly, asleep.

  
When she woke not too long after, she told him of a strange recurring dream: massive armies clashing on a vast battlefield. A girl with long, green hair and an ornate dress. A strange and malleable sword.

  
And while she told him of her dream, trouble arrived in the form of three teenagers. Now Jeralt and his daughter were headed to the last place in Fódlan he wanted to go: Garreg Mach monastery.

  
He sighed. Garreg Mach. They had really stepped in it this time. Two decades of dodging the past had finally caught up to him, and there was nowhere left to run.

  
Between snippets of conversation with their Knight escort, Jeralt watched his daughter and the three teenagers weaving around her. She looked natural amongst them. He was hit by simultaneous waves of relief and guilt—relief that a lifetime of solitude had not prevented her from interacting with her peers, and guilt that he had kept her from it for so long. It was...nice to see her getting on with kids her age.

  
Tch. _Kids_. With a rising sense of apprehension, Jeralt reminded himself that Byleth was no longer a child. She hadn’t been for a few years. But he had done so much for her for so long that it was hard not to think of her as his little girl.

  
It was not as though she were helpless. For the most part, Byleth could take care of herself. Her combat skills were unparalleled in their mercenary band. Her social skills were...a work in progress, but her body language was expressive when you learned to read it. She was clear in communicating her needs, but she had never really expressed much beyond that. No tears. No joy. Nothing intense, at least, outside of combat.

  
And these kids...the stoic Edelgard, the smiling Claude, the sincere Dimitri...

  
A future Emperor. A future Duke. A future King. His daughter seemed so relaxed in their company, but they weren’t quite the friends he hoped Byleth would make. Not royal brats. Not from the Officers’ Academy. And certainly not under Rhea’s scrutiny.

  
As the Archbishop spoke to them, Byleth stared, wide-eyed, her ease from the forest gone. Rhea welcomed them and hired them in the same breath. Jeralt was to retake his position as Captain of the Knights, and his daughter was to teach. As Rhea left them to consider their new situation, Jeralt let out a heavy sigh.

  
The job was too good. The pay was too great. And after everything he had been through with Rhea...

  
_Damned Rhea._

  
But Byleth...teaching?

  
Damned Rhea knew exactly what to say to get him back into the Knights, but he worried for his daughter. Maybe she’d be a good teacher—she learned quickly enough. Maybe Byleth would be happy surrounded by kids her age, noble brats or otherwise. Maybe teaching would be her calling.

  
And maybe, Goddess willing, his daughter would be safe.

  
But just in case, he would be there to protect her.  


* * *

Byleth couldn’t remember the last time she had been asked to choose anything for herself. Recall, yes. Perform, yes. Execute, yes, more times than she could count. But choose? She couldn’t remember the last time she had wanted anything more complicated than a meal. Her father had stopped asking for her opinion long ago, and she had been ambivalent to follow him.

  
Now, she had been asked by strangers the same question twice, and her father could give her no answer. Which do you choose: black, gold, or blue? The Empire, the Alliance, or the Kingdom?

  
The information had come too fast to process: the Archbishop, the religion, the job. She was a professor now. That was not a choice she had been given; it was an assignment. An assignment she had no issue with. An assignment was familiar—though the idea of teaching made her uncertain. That, at least, she was not completely alone in. The two that introduced themselves as her fellow professors seemed friendly enough. An older man with a monocle and a mustache. A middle-aged woman from the opera with medical training. Byleth lost their names in the shuffle.

  
And then there was Sothis, the girl on the throne, who claimed she could rewind time. That name, Byleth remembered, though she understood very little about Sothis otherwise. Only Byleth could hear her. Only Byleth could see her. Byleth was still not used to the sound of her voice. 

  
The choice was which class to teach, from the three students she had helped save earlier that day. She didn’t know how to choose.

  
In battle, they had not impressed her, but they had not been a burden either. The axe was full of passion but had terrible aim. The bow was quick-fingered but edged away from combat. The lance was strong and practiced but shockingly reckless. As she herself favored the sword, there wasn’t an obvious choice.

  
By the Archbishop’s expression, Byleth guessed her own indecision was apparent. She didn’t like that. She didn’t like when strangers could read her. The Archbishop smiled too brightly at her and recommended Byleth speak to the students before making a decision—to “let her heart choose.” Byleth felt a strange discomfort creep over her neck at the phrasing, but she saw the sense in talking to the students. Her conversational skills, she knew, were not the best, but years of watching people as a mercenary had informed her of much. She decided that would have to be enough to guide her.

  
The axe disquieted her. Even alone in a vast hall, the axe stood up straight and maintained eye contact almost forcefully. As she described her classmates, Byleth got the distinct impression that the axe both wanted to control things and simply could not. It was clear from her tone that Byleth had impressed her, but the constant pressure of her gaze suggested a deep suspicion. Byleth wondered what about herself had unnerved the girl so—she had saved the axe’s life, maybe that unsettled her? When the axe said she felt they might be similar, Byleth only felt her confusion compound. She thanked the girl, as she had been taught to do, and wandered in search of the other house leaders.

  
The bow slouched against a pillar outdoors in a manner Byleth thought calculated. He smiled when Byleth approached, and she noted again that it didn’t meet his eyes. He described his classmates with brutal honesty but without intimacy, the way an outsider might. His distance aside, he seemed genuinely fond of them, and he was authentically apologetic. Byleth appreciated the frankness but wondered what he was drawing attention away from. When the bow dodged the question of describing himself, her wariness only increased. And something about the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn’t looking...Byleth thanked him less formally than she had thanked the axe, and went to find the final house leader.

  
On the other side of the courtyard, the lance stood alone with a distant expression. When Byleth approached, he smiled. He had something kind to say about each of his classmates, which she found endearing. As with the others, Byleth asked him about himself. She saw pain crumple his features before he hid it with a smile. He said he hoped the unpleasant parts of his life would not color her view of him. Byleth stared.

  
“Why,” she began and stopped, searching for the words. The silence grew in between them.

  
The lance reddened. “Beg pardon?”

  
“Why would that matter?” Byleth didn’t think those were the right words, but it was too late to take them back.

  
The lance blinked back at her. That was probably the most she had said to any of the house leaders at once. She wished now she hadn’t said anything. The easiest way to avoid an awkward or unpleasant conversation was not to speak at all in the first place.

  
The lance cleared his throat and looked away. “As Crown Prince, it’s my duty to excel despite my personal troubles.” He looked back towards her. “That being said...it would be dishonest to deny I had any. I would not like to be favored unduly for either good or bad. I can control neither.”

  
When he smiled again, he closed his eyes.

  
“They are all clearly hurting,” came Sothis’s hushed voice from inside her. Byleth started. She heard Sothis sigh in exasperation. “Even when I whisper, you startle!” 

  
In her mind, Byleth apologized. Sothis was right. Each of the three house leaders was troubled in some way. Byleth wished she knew what to say.

  
“In any case,” the lance spoke up, opening his eyes. Byleth felt a small rush of relief that she did not have to say anything to get him to speak again. “You should speak to the others—not just the house leaders. The other students, I mean. They’re just in the classrooms behind us. Or perhaps I could help you find your way back to the Archbishop?”

  
It struck Byleth that the other house leaders had not told her where their fellow students were.

  
“I would like to meet the others,” Byleth said.

  
That was her second choice.

  
She thought she might have already made her first.  


* * *

The new professor was...strange.

  
Dimitri had seen her in combat; she was fierce, quick, and unyielding. Her skill with a sword was obvious. She knew where each of her allies were and where to position them to ensure victory. Indeed, she was everything he had expected from Jeralt’s acclaimed mercenary band and more.

  
Out of combat, she was a different story altogether.

  
Her tone was flat, her face was neutral, and her words were terse. She stood _absolutely, unnervingly still._ And she stared. She stared so acutely that Dimitri felt the hairs on his back stand on end, like something deep and unknowable was watching him.

  
But that was his imagination getting the better of him. She was merely a woman, albeit an unusual one.

  
And she had been appointed a professor by the Archbishop herself and instructed to choose one of the Academy’s three houses.

  
Dimitri imagined Edelgard had given her spiel about the Empire, forceful and compelling, and that Claude had suggested something listing the benefits of the Alliance up front but downplayed the drawbacks. It was almost unfair that the professor had spoken to them individually. Dimitri felt he had so little to offer but that his need for her abilities was greatest, considering the state of the Kingdom. Or perhaps individual meetings were the most fair. No one to interrupt his proposal this time.

  
Not that he had been graceful or inspiring either way. He had been too forthcoming with his trauma, too open and unguarded. Too foolish.

  
Something about her had just...he didn’t know. He felt it difficult to hide things from her, but that it was okay to share regardless.

  
The thought made him redden. Had Sylvain overheard, he surely would have mocked Dimitri mercilessly. _“Never spoken to a girl before, Your Highness? You didn’t give her a dagger, too, did you?”_

  
As though he would give a dagger to a stranger. And the professor carried quite a nice dagger on her belt already.

  
Dimitri could see Sylvain doubled over, breathless with laughter, in his head. He resolved fervently not to mention any of these thoughts aloud to his fellow students. And to watch his gaze.

  
When the new professor stood in front of them in the classroom and announced she would be teaching their house, Dimitri almost snapped his lance in half. With all his bumbling, all the awkwardness and hesitation, she had chosen to lead the Blue Lions. To say that he was surprised was an understatement.

  
Thankfully, he was not the only one. Annette’s jaw practically fell to the floor, apologies stumbling out of her mouth. The professor shook her head, her blank expression unchanged.

  
“I don’t mind if you treat me as a friend,” she said in a way that suggested she didn’t mind anything at all, nor had she ever.

  
Dimitri suppressed a shudder. His classmates looked at each other, apprehensive. Was it from the professor’s mannerisms? Or were they simply conflicted by her casual disregard? Was he overreacting? He had to get ahold of himself. Strange or not, he reminded himself again, she was simply a woman, and she was now their professor. She ranked over them. They ought to show her respect.

  
Sylvain of course objected, claiming their friendliness with the Crown Prince was reason enough to speak informally with their professor as well. Ingrid mentioned her apprehensions towards the relaxed atmosphere: for her to speak to Dimitri informally was one thing, as they were childhood friends, and he was not yet King. But to speak so casually to a teacher? Mercedes suggested they speak to the professor however they were most comfortable, and the professor (unsurprisingly) agreed.

  
Some of the discomfort seemed to lessen after that. Sylvain moved right into hitting on the professor and Felix challenged her to spar. Both suggestions exasperated Dimitri, though at least the sparring, he could support. The professor responded to neither, instead watching the students intently. Dimitri watched her in turn, cautious curiosity warring with a growing sense of victory. The new, highly-skilled professor had chosen to lead the Blue Lions. She had chosen _him_ over Edelgard and Claude. He smiled.

  
“Well then, Professor, what do you think? As you can see, the Blue Lion house is a lively bunch, but you’ll find none who work harder.” He smiled at her, and she nodded. She seemed to nod a lot, he noticed. For several increasingly uncomfortable moments, the group stood in silence, Dimitri and his peers awaiting instruction. The professor’s eyes widened slightly, but she said nothing and made no other gesture that indicated she understood she was supposed to say something, nor even that she would. Was she nervous? She could not have been unaccustomed to command; Dimitri was certain of that after fighting alongside her. Perhaps she was simply shy? Whatever the reason, he was determined to bridge the gap. She had chosen their house. _His_ house. He was not going to waste a moment of this opportunity.

  
Dimitri smiled a little brighter and offered a hand. “Shall we head to the training grounds, Professor? You could watch us train, get to know our strengths and weaknesses better?”

  
Another nod. Dimitri saw her shoulders sag just the smallest bit, in what seemed like relief. Her voice, however, betrayed nothing.

"Yes. Show me what you can do,” she said.

  
The students let out their breaths, releasing the rest of the tension into the air. Excepting Felix and Dedue, they smiled and walked out of the classroom, chattering in pairs or groups of three. Dimitri moved to join them, then turned back to the professor.

  
She stood, arms crossed, staring mutely after them.

“Professor? Is everything all right?” He asked.

  
She did not immediately respond, nor did she look at him. When she spoke, she was so quiet that he almost didn’t hear.

  
“I have been a mercenary for a long time,” she said, and Dimitri found it odd to hear such a statement from someone who looked so young. Was he supposed to answer that? He looked between the rest of the class, still walking away—except for Dedue, who had stopped—and their new professor.

  
She was looking back at him. Her expression was devoid of emotion, but her eyes, a soft periwinkle, shimmered. “I have never been a teacher.”

  
Perhaps it was nerves after all then. And after seeing her so coolly command in combat, the thought of her being nervous to teach was funny, too.

  
“Please, don’t worry, Professor. I have every faith in your abilities. Remember how fervently I requested your aid after you helped us fight off the bandits?”

  
Wait. That came out wrong.

  
“Ah, that is...you are quite skilled, and I greatly look forward to learning from you. We all do. Shall we make our way to the training grounds?”

  
Not a smooth save. Not even a save. Sylvain would have been in tears.

  
The professor blinked twice at him and nodded once more.  


* * *

As the sun lowered in the sky, Byleth sat on a pier with her father, overlooking a large man-made pond. Her feet dangled over the murky depths, and she wondered what fish might have been stocked in this artificial home. It seemed like the monastery had a little bit of everything: a school, a cathedral, a marketplace, a kitchen, a greenhouse, and even a fishing pond. Truly, it seemed like a small city within itself. Tucked so high and deep into the mountains, she imagined it had to be to sustain itself. Poles in the water, they waited for a bite, and Byleth waited for her father to speak.

  
“What did you see today, kid?” She anticipated him asking. 

  
It was the question her father had always asked her at the end of each day. They had never been especially talkative together; most days, they were either in the heat of battle, spending a quiet afternoon fishing, or trekking to the next job. Sometimes all three could happen in a single day. Asking what his daughter witnessed seemed to be easier for them both than asking directly how she was, or so it seemed to Byleth. It made the question seem almost more about information-gathering than connection. What can you add to today’s safety? Today’s knowledge? Beyond that, Byleth felt it to be a test, though she never understood why she was being tested. What have you learned today? Are you watching the world around you? Are you aware of your surroundings?

  
As though he thought she might not be whole or sound.

  
Regardless of the reason, it had been a useful question; she made sure to pay enough attention to have something new to tell her father. The more she could tell him, the more his eyes lit up.

  
She had always liked seeing that.

  
Today, though, her father asked a different question: “How was your first day with the brats?”

  
Byleth did not immediately respond. Several times, she blinked. Her father peered at her.

  
“Sorry, kid. Not the usual question, I know,” he sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I just...worry about you here.”

  
Byleth twitched her fingers. Her father was usually not this open about his emotions until he was deep in his cups. But still, the question demanded an answer. She drummed a finger along the pier and looked away, ignoring her father’s curious surprise at the gesture. Surely she had tapped her finger before? The thought left her as she considered her new students.

  
There were only eight of them, and it was too many. Eight enemies were easy to count. Eight allies were less easy to track. But to separate and distinguish them by name, Byleth found most challenging.  
There was, of course, The Lance, leader of her chosen house. Tall, blond, and awkward but kind. There was the Flirty Redhead, who did everything with panache to mask his raw skill. There was the Scowling Swordsman, who in contrast to Red, did everything with a grunt of disgust. There was the Lady Knight: blonde, austere, and principled. There were two mages, Kind Smile and The Zephyr, a spacey, smiling woman with long hair and a smaller girl with so much energy that Byleth found her dizzying. Then there was the tall Stoic Shield—his country of origin and his devotion to The Lance were all he seemed to utter so far. And finally, the Freckled Bowman, an earnest but nervous boy who seemed uncertain about his position in all of this.

  
All that would have been enough for her to sort out, but on top of that, there were _dynamics_. Freckles exuded anxiety any time he had to speak to The Lance. Zephyr and Kind knew each other from their school prior. Red, Scowl, and Lady were childhood friends with The Lance, which Scowl seemed to want to forget entirely. Shield was indebted to The Lance, but he and Lady avoided eye contact entirely, though it seemed like he avoided eye contact with just about everyone if he could help it.

  
And they were all looking to her the entire time for instruction. She was used to following orders, not giving them. Not alone.

  
“Yet you commanded them on the battlefield without a second thought,” Sothis whispered. Byleth gripped her fishing pole, eyes widening. “Your father saw you take command and was content to let you manage.”

  
“Kid?” Her father’s voice cut through her thoughts like a knife. Byleth whipped her head up. He tried to quickly rein in his shock—too late, Byleth had noticed anyway—and gave her a sympathetic smile. He placed a hand on her shoulder. “That bad, huh?”

  
Haltingly, she answered, “It is...more challenging...than I expected.”

  
“Well, we don’t have to stay here, kid. We can find work elsewhere. The money doesn’t matter.”

  
He looked so genuine, so concerned. Byleth wanted to believe him as she always had. Discomfort trickled down her back as she found something in his eyes she had not seen often: fear.

  
“He is agitated,” Sothis said. “But for what reason should he be?”

  
_He doesn’t trust the people here,_ Byleth thought. But trust aside, the way her father had spoken both to and about the Archbishop told her this job was not the same as jobs prior. He was attached to this place like he was attached to Remire. This had been something like a home to him.

  
“Our reputation,” she replied aloud.

  
For a moment, her father stared. Then he threw his head back and laughed, a deep, full-bellied sound. Byleth felt the tightness in her shoulders relax. Laughter suited him far better than anxiousness.

  
“Never thought I’d live to see the day my child was more responsible than I was when it came to business. Suppose we ought to call them ‘Byleth’s Mercenaries,’ then, and I can retire.”

  
Byleth pursed her lips.

  
“Aw, don't be like that. I'm only teasing. I wouldn’t leave you, kid.”

  
She turned back to her pole in the still waters.

  
“If this was a home to him once, perhaps it could be a home for us, too,” Sothis said.

  
_I have never had a home before,_ Byleth told her.

  
The bobber dipped under the water, and Byleth reflexively snapped her rod. Her father slapped her on the back.

  
“Hey, kid! You’ve got a bite!”

  
Byleth eyed the water suspiciously. She had not expected there to actually be fish in this pond. With a splash, her line plunged further under the water and almost took the pole with it.

  
“Pull, By! Don’t let it get away from you!” her father shouted as Sothis cried, “Catch it, catch it!”

  
Byleth closed her eyes to the cacophony and focused on the rod in her hands. She rose, steadying herself on the pier, and pulled. The rod bowed under the weight of the fish and she jerked back. It was not a long fight, and it was not a large fish, but as its scales shimmered in the fading light and her father let out a _whoop_ , Byleth felt something in her swell.

  
_Perhaps,_ a small part of her whispered. _Perhaps I could have a home here._  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I am really enamored of the concept of Byleth becoming more human over time, and I wanted to explore a little of that as well as what the Lions might think of her (which I will do a little more going forward!) and what Byleth and Jeralt's relationship might be like. I really enjoy writing their interactions and have a couple ideas going forward about that as well. :]
> 
> Title inspiration is Of Monsters and Men's song "Alligator," which I felt resonated really strongly with Byleth sort of "waking up" as far as emotions and humanity goes.


End file.
